The Biggest Challenge There Is
by HealerAriel
Summary: Let's be honest with ourselves: Faye kicks butt at what she does. And now that includes raising her teenage daughter the right way. Probably some OOCness, but who cares? S/F, I'm a hopeless romantic.
1. Default Chapter

(A/N- 'Kay, the way I see it, there are two plausible scenarios for the end of Cowboy Bebop. They are: a) Spike is dead, and b) Spike is still alive. Being the odd one I am, part of me believes each. I happen to have stories for each stuck in my head. This is the "Spike Lives" scenario. Beware, this story will switch viewpoints A LOT, like all of my other stories. But, It'll be purty easy to tell which viewpoint is working at which time. And a quick note: if anybody's OOC, suck it up because frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn.)  
  
"Wake up," I whispered to the shape under the blanket. The shape in question mumbled unhappily and pushed very long, very messy strands of dark purple hair out of her pretty face.  
  
"Do I hafta?" she grumbled. I could have laughed. Poor baby, she was still half asleep. But, she HAD been up until midnight the night before.  
  
"Yes you do," I informed.  
  
"Can't I just skiv off on first period and sleep? Please?" I thought about that for a moment.  
  
"Which class is first period?"  
  
"It's French. I have an A-plus in French anyway, can you please just take me in late?" she begged. She did have very good grades, and she'd been working so hard...  
  
"Fine," I agreed. "Just one more hour, though."  
  
"Thanks. I love you Mom."  
  
"I love you, too, sweetie. Go back to sleep." My daughter nodded happily and pulled the covers back over her head. My little angel. Well, not so little anymore - she would be sixteen soon.  
  
'God, time flies,' I thought as I made my way to my own bedroom. I happened to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.  
  
"Getting old, Faye," I said to my reflection. I sighed. Thirty- eight... almost forty! Well, technically I was eighty-eight, but the fifty years of cryo didn't count. I sighed again. We were all getting old. Jet was in his fifties, and crazy little Ed had become a very beautiful, well- spoken, (go figure) young woman of twenty-eight. Both were still on the Bebop with Ein's successor, Ein II. I don't know, maybe living with a dog for all that time had made it hard for them to get along without one. Why Jet and Ed had to give the thing the same damn name was a complete mystery to me, but I wasn't the one feeding it, so it was really none of my business.  
  
I, myself, had quit my former life of guns, bounties, and sexy clothes when I found out I was pregnant. With a hell of a lot of help from Jet, Paige and I had moved into our own house when she was two years old. And I'd gotten a respectable job. Still got a lot of help from Jet and Ed, though, and I was certainly grateful. It had occured to me that I owed those two my life (not that it wasn't partly due to the fact that Jet kept reminding me of this). It had also occured to me that because of Jet and Ed (mostly Jet), Paige was very spoiled. I mean, incredibly spoiled. Every time they came over, they brought countless trinkets from different planets with them.  
  
'At least they haven't gotten her a dog, yet,' I thought. Paige had always wanted a dog. But so long as she was living in my house, she would just have to settle for playing with Ein on occasion.  
  
I knew what everyone who'd ever known me probably thought. They probably thought that there was no way in the seven hells that Faye Valentine could be a decent mother. But Paige was turning out just fine in my opinion, so screw them. I had managed to raise a smart, beautiful, polite, and talented teenaged girl who thought I was a cool mom, and that was more than most women could say. I had done this by myself, too, so score a few hundred more points for Ms. Valentine.  
  
The next thing everyone always seemed to wonder was: where's Paige's father? Ah, now THERE was a story! Well, sometimes, after a particularly romantic evening, things happen in the heat of the moment, you forget about the magical properties of latex, the green-haired FREAK takes off in his little spaceship before you wake up the next morning, and isn't around a month later when you find out that he managed to knock you up the first damn time you slept with him!  
  
I wasn't sure whether to thank or crucify Spike Spiegel for what he'd done. Whereas it royally pissed me off that the bastard had scampered away like a rabbit from any possible consequences of having sex with me, Paige was undeniably the best thing that had ever happened to me, and raising her myself had forced me to become a more responsible (I had also stopped drinking, smoking, and gambling with the news of pregnancy) and ultimately better person. Although disappearing for nearly sixteen years and nine months was a wicked immature way of avoiding any morning-after awkwardness, I'd probably welcome the man back with...somewhat open arms if he ever decided to come back. Don't get me wrong, I'd bitch him out for a few hours first, but it wasn't as though I didn't miss him just a little sometimes. Okay, so I missed him a lot sometimes. And it didn't help that Paige had gotten her daddy's eyes.  
  
Then, of course, I worried about what would happen if he DID come back. I mean, one time I'd heard him telling Jet about things he hated, and children were among them (then again, so were "women with attitudes", but that hadn't seemed to bother him when I was in bed with him). Maybe he would hate Paige, too. It wasn't unheard of for parents not to love their children. Atrocious and evil, but not unheard of. Somewhere around that point, I would always decide that it was much better for all three of us if Spike remained AWOL and never even met his daughter. He'd be happy not knowing, my little girl wouldn't have to go through the emotional trauma of her father not loving her, and I wouldn't have to worry about finding a good place to hide Spike's body after I murdered him for upsetting Paige.  
  
Then I would come to the conclusion that all that worrying would just make me age even faster and crave liquor and chocolate, and resolve never to think about it again. Yeah, I went through that routine at least every day.  
  
***  
  
An extra hour of sleep is always good. I can't help it, I've never been a morning person. Mom said I got that from her. Considering that I'd also gotten nice hair and nice boobs from her, I really couldn't complain about a little difficulty convincing my brain that I was not going to stay in bed all day.  
  
I threw on some clothes, washed my face, and went out to join Mom in the kitchen. She handed me a large mug of coffee as soon as I sat down. I smiled brightly at her. I love coffee.  
  
"Good morning, Mommy," I said. She gave me this wry smile she'd perfected in the past few years and rested her head in her hand.  
  
"Yeah, good for you. You're not getting wrinkles." I rolled my eyes at this comment.  
  
"You're brooding about your age again? For God's sake, Mom, you're prettier than three quarters of the human population, take that as it is and stop obsessing about getting older."  
  
"I'm getting older way too fast."  
  
"Because you worry all the time! And half the time I have no clue what it is that you're worrying about anyway, so chill out," I advised. She laughed a little.  
  
"Well, I have to admit, I look great for and eighty-eight-year-old woman," she said.  
  
"There you go!" I agreed, draining the rest of my coffee and proceeding to fetch some cereal from the cupboard. Mom really laughed this time.  
  
"Let's get onto a happier topic, shall we? What do you want for your birthday?"  
  
"Same thing I've been asking for since I was about five," I responded, sitting back down with a particularly huge bowl of cinnamony cereal and wolfing it down unceremoniously.  
  
"Paige, we still have no room for a horse in here," she said. I gave her a look.  
  
"No, not the horse. The other thing I always ask for." There was another one of those pauses that told me she really didn't want to talk about it. Then she sighed and looked down at the table.  
  
"You know that can't happen."  
  
"Yes it can. You can have Ed do a search, I'm sure he'll turn up."  
  
"That's not the point."  
  
"What's the point, then? Why can't I know my own father?"  
  
"Because that's how it is." Her tone made it very clear that the conversation was over. With no additional information whatsoever. Faye Valentine: 1, Paige Valentine: 0.  
  
"You may have won the battle," I said, in my best evil voice, "but you haven't won the war!"  
  
"Oh shut up, go get ready for school."  
  
(A/N- yep, the infamous sucky start-off chapter! But it'll get better. Oh yes, it WILL get better. Or maybe I'm just rattling on and should shut the hell up. Either way, R&R, s'il vous plait!) 


	2. And on the Bebop

(A/N- No, this fic is, in fact, NOT dead! I actually have a lame excuse for why I left it at a single chapter for a year or so. See, I got the second chapter written, but my computer inexplicably deleted it from my disk, and... yeah, I said it was lame... Well, here goes Chapter 2!)  
  
.  
  
My fingers were hurting. I thought back to those days when I was flexible enough - and had short enough legs - to type with my toes when my hands got tired with the utmost longing. Maybe nobody realized it, but even Radical Edward's hands started to cramp after hours of continuous typing. But, when you were low on money and minus your best operatives, there was really no option but to stay up all day and all night searching for a few choice bountyheads. And Jet had advised me to get some sleep. Hah! As if I'd do something like that?  
  
Well, I'd tried to. Damn insomnia. I looked down at the Welsh corgi laying in my lap. HE didn't have any trouble falling asleep. He wasn't as smart as the original Ein, but he was still fuzzy and cute and fun to play with. Not that I had any time to play anymore. No, those carefree days had followed Spike and Faye off the ship. Now I had to be serious; not to mention, I had to take Faye's old role as the sex appeal when the job called for it. I didn't have her body, but I could pull off the "young-and- helpless" thing pretty well. A lot of men apparently liked that. At least I got to shoot them in the foot if they got fresh. Why the foot? Because it hurts bad and it doesn't kill 'em, so you get your money AND your revenge for an unwelcome grope or two. Because no one grabs my ass and gets away with it. Damn, Faye was starting to rub off on me.  
  
I rubbed my eyes and stared back at the computer screen. Geez, now the words were running together.  
  
"Screw it, I need some coffee," I muttered, turning off the monitor and getting up. Ein gave a yip of protest as he fell from my lap onto the floor. Oops, I'd forgotten that he was there. He glared at me before jumping back onto the bed, curling up, and going back to sleep. "It was an accident, no reason to get all pissed at me," I explained to the sleeping pooch. He didn't care.  
  
I shrugged and headed out to the kitchen, being as quiet as possible since I knew Jet was asleep. He always hated being woken up, and as old as he was getting, he needed rest to stay in action when I DID find some good bounties. What WAS the average life expectancy for a man? Well, whatever it was, Jet would have even less time. He still smoked, not constantly like Spike always had, but enough. Then when you factored in the heavy drinking... In a few years, it might be only me and Ein on the Bebop, and that scared the hell outta me. Maybe I'd go live with Faye and Paige when he...  
  
'I've lost everything that made me what I was,' I thought shaking my head. I used to be the one without a care in the world - the happy one. Not anymore. Now I was on the verge of needing some serious valium sometimes. I don't know, sometime after Spike and Faye left, life just stopped being fun. Hacking was work, not play; I didn't have birthdays anymore, I just got one year closer to wrinkles, grey hair, and death.  
  
"This sucks," I grumbled as I started to go about making a pot of coffee. Strong coffee. Maybe with a few shots in it, too. Nah, maybe not; Jet was pretty protective of his booze. Eh, it all tasted like shit anyhow.  
  
The doorbell rang as I was contemplating what had become of my life. This seemed rather suspicious until I remembered that we had, in fact, stopped on Mars. Duh, Edward. Honestly, where was my brain lately?  
  
"Who could possibly want to bother us this late?" I asked myself rhetorically as I headed for the door. Hesitated. Picked up the metal baseball bat leaning against the wall, and continued toward the door. Being the bait for rapists and such makes a girl paranoid - for good reason.  
  
I snuck a look through the little peep-hole thingy (for lack of a better word. Does ANYONE know what those are really called? I may be a genius, but that was ridiculous). There was a tall, thin, male figure in the shadows, accompanied by the glow of a lit cigarette. WHY do they always stand in the shadows? God, men always have to make a dramatic and sinister entrance, don't they? Oh well, if he didn't have a damn good reason to be there, he was going to eat my bat pretty soon. I took a deep breath and opened the door a little, poking my head out.  
  
"Can I help you?" I asked. He stepped into the light just then, and I couldn't believe my eyes.  
  
"Uh, is-" he couldn't finish the question, as old instincts took over and I let out a happy squeal, launched myself at him, and wrapped my arms around him tightly. "Um, do I know you?" I let go of him and pouted dejectedly.  
  
"Spike, you don't remember me?" I asked sadly. Something in his head must have clicked, because his jaw dropped and he just sort of stared at me in disbelief.  
  
"Edward?!"  
  
"Yay! You remember me!" I chirped, hugging him again. He cleared his throat.  
  
"Ed, would you mind not doing that? It's a little...awkward." Oh, so that was it. I'd forgotten that I was wearing only a T-shirt, socks, and panties at the time. Whoops. Guess he wasn't used to being glomped by half- dressed girls he'd last seen as thirteen-year-old kids.  
  
"Sorry about that," I said rather sheepishly. Okay, I was over my slight embarrassment. I grabbed him by the wrist. "Come on!" I sang, pulling him inside. "Do you want some coffee?"  
  
"No, that's fine," he replied, still giving me that look, like he was trying to comprehend that this was how I looked now. I got that look from Faye and Jet all the time, too.  
  
"You sure?" I asked.  
  
"Yeah. Hey, where's-?"  
  
"Ed? What's going on?" So, I'd ended up waking Jet anyway.  
  
"JET! SPIKE CAME HOME!" I called happily, resisting the urge to start bouncing up and down.  
  
"WHAT?!" Running footsteps down the hall, and my father-figure showed up in the room with a very surprised expression on his face. "Well, speak of the devil." Then he got sight of me. "Damn it, Edward, get some clothes on!"  
  
.  
  
.  
  
'Damn, Jet looks old,' Spike thought. His friend was now completely bald, and his black beard was flecked with more than a little bit of grey. Not to mention all the new wrinkles that had appeared on his face. You'd think the two of them would have a lot to talk about after nearly sixteen years without speaking, yet they sat in complete silence. Smoking and drinking, naturally.  
  
"So," Jet began. "What have you been doing?" Spike shrugged.  
  
"Stuff," he responded. "What have you been doing?"  
  
"Same as before: catching the bad guys and bringing them in for however much cash we can get. Which, as usual, isn't nearly enough."  
  
More silence.  
  
"Never thought I'd see Edward with tits," Spike remarked a few moments later. "Reminds me of how old I really am."  
  
"Me too. We're just all getting that much closer to death."  
  
"Depressing."  
  
"Yep."  
  
"Men like us weren't made for conversation."  
  
"Hell no." They both cleared their throats, listening idly to the mysterious clatter Ed was making in the kitchen as she did... something that seemed to require the use of quite a bit of silverware, from the sound of it.  
  
"So...how's Faye been?"  
  
"Oh...she's been...good."  
  
"Is...she around?"  
  
"She moved out fourteen years ago. Lives here on Mars, actually, about seven hours away in the country; I'm surprised you haven't seen her around."  
  
"I don't make it a point to hang out in the boonies," Spike informed. "Can't see why Faye would, either. There probably isn't a casino around for miles."  
  
"She's not a big gambler anymore."  
  
Spike's shock was such that his jaw dropped for a second time that night, sending his smoldering cigarette onto his left leg, where it burned a hole in his pants.  
  
"Are you guys talking about Faye?" Ed asked, returning from the kitchen with a large, steaming mug of black coffee and sitting cross-legged on the couch next to Spike. Jet tried for a moment to deduce exactly WHAT she'd made all that racket in the kitchen for, if all she had apparently done was make a pot of coffee, but then he decided he was probably going to be happier not knowing.  
  
"Were you eavesdropping?" Spike retorted, examining the burn hole in his trousers with a bit of embarrassment that he'd done something so dumb.  
  
"We were planning on visiting Faye in a week or two," Ed continued, "after we bring in the latest bountyhead. You could help us out - be like old times." Spike shook his head.  
  
"My bounty hunting days are over," he said. "I'm forty-three years old, and to be perfectly honest, I can't do half the stuff I used to be able to."  
  
Jet chose not to mention the fact that he, himself, was fifty-two and still in action. Instead, he said, "Suit yourself. But if you want to go visit Faye while Ed and I are working, I could write down her address for you."  
  
"Eh, I don't think she'd really want to see me...would she?"  
  
Ed and Jet exchanged a look, hinting that they knew something Spike didn't, but he couldn't figure out what it could possibly be. He had the fleeting suspicion that maybe Faye had gotten herself married, and that's what they were worried about, but then decided it was highly doubtful.  
  
"I think you should go see her," Ed advised. "I mean, it'll take the two of us some time to get everything in order before we head to her place, so you guys'll have a while to catch up on lost time."  
  
Spike could have sworn he heard Jet mutter "While we're safely absent" under his breath, but it was probably just his imagination.  
  
He hoped.  
  
(A/N- Well, here you have a plot point! Everybody say YAY! And, uh, be happy that I finally updated this thing...) 


End file.
